To the few who passed through the hall at this hour, Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, did not look like a man who had only the night before been betrothed to the fairest and most renowned lady in the land. Yet it was because of her that he now restlessly paced.
He and Eowyn both had arisen early this morning, although the funeral feast had lasted far into the night and the two of them had then stayed awake long after, baring their souls until the eastern sky grew light. Few others joined them at the morning meal, most still sleeping after a heady night of revelry. Following their quiet breakfast, Eowyn had expressed to Faramir her desire to go out to King Theoden's newly-closed tomb -- her sorrow at her uncle's parting had not eased, despite the passing months, and she yearned to say a private goodbye over his grave.
Having held her hand at the funeral the day before and wiped her eyes dry all through the night, Faramir had been quick to offer his company. "I would not have you grieve alone," he'd said, remembering the heartsickness that had almost consumed her back in Gondor. Yet Eowyn had bid him stay, and Faramir knew not to go against her wishes. His footsteps now sounded throughout the hall as he paced, yet his mind was out on the hillside. For although Eowyn had insisted that she sought solitude, Faramir feared that, once at the grave, she would change her mind, and he wanted to be close-at-hand if she did.
Faramir's focus being more internal than external, it took him some time before he noticed the song sounding through the quiet stillness. The voice was sweet and clear, the haunting melody echoing through the near-empty hall. The source not readily apparent, Faramir sought it out, eventually finding it in a darkened corner.
Staring at the singer, it was hard to believe Faramir owed his very life to this small hobbit of the Shire. A far cry from the boisterous singer that stood on tables last night, singing cheerful choruses with a pint in hand, Pippin was now sitting alone, his voice sad and forlorn. Faramir stood and watched in silence, in awe of the simple beauty of the song.
But the song ended abruptly in a startled "Oh!" as Pippin finally took notice of Faramir's presence. "I'm sorry. I hope I was not disturbing you."
"Quite the contrary," Faramir said, shaking his head. The hobbit smiled, although sadness still shone in his eyes, and once again Faramir was overcome by the sheer compassion emanating from the small being in front of him. Most folk were only aware of Pippin's foolishness and his incredible talent for drawing all attention to himself at the most inopportune moments, but Faramir saw deeper, recognizing the quiet empathy that dwelled within. It was clear to him what had driven Pippin to risk all just to save the life of a near-stranger. To save his life.
"But why a sad song on such a day as this?" Faramir asked. And almost in answer to his own question, he added, "And where is Master Meriadoc? It is rare to see you parted from each other."
Pippin nodded, sighing. "Merry's outside on the hill. He desired to sit at the King's tomb alone this morning."
Faramir smiled. "I'm afraid he won't be alone." Pippin looked almost stricken by this news until Faramir quickly added, "Eowyn left this morning with the same purpose."
Pippin smiled. "Well, that's almost as good as being alone." The hobbit's sincerity made Faramir hide his amusement. "Actually, it's probably even better." Pippin looked up at Faramir as he added, "It is as King Theoden would wish. They were both there, you know. At the end."
Faramir nodded -- he knew now, after last night. Until then, Eowyn had never spoken of her deeds to him, and he knew only the tales that spread through Gondor, the songs of the great Shieldmaiden of Rohan. But last night, as she wept in his comforting arms, she finally told him of her time on the battlefield, of how she had put herself between the Witchking and her uncle, of how she had not been awake when he died.
"He misses him," Pippin continued. "Merry, I mean. He loved King Theoden as a father -- they shared a real connection, although they knew each other only a short while." Pippin smiled wistfully, lost in thought. "And you know, now Merry sighs every time he lights his pipe. I don't think he's aware that I notice, and he might not even notice himself." Now it was Pippin's turn to sigh. "I don't like it when Merry's not merry."
The hall descended into silence as the hobbit paused. Then he looked up at Faramir, smiling, and said, "Eowyn must be joyful."
"Joyful?" Faramir repeated, not having expected Pippin's sentence to end with such a word.
Pippin nodded eagerly. "For the upcoming marriage, of course. She must be very pleased with her choice, the Prince of Ithilien," he announced grandly.
Faramir blushed. "I was the one who chose her, not the other way around," he said with an air of deprecation. But Faramir knew in his heart that Eowyn now loved him, and he hoped her regrets would be few.
"Well, as they say," Pippin said helpfully, "'it matters not whether the oil or vinegar is added first, as long as they make a fine salad.'"
Faramir let out a hearty laugh. "Perhaps you are right." It felt good to laugh, and Faramir suddenly realized what an influence the hobbits had over them all. "I'm afraid things will be frightfully dull when you leave."
"Dull indeed," Pippin sighed. "I shall miss all this when I am gone. Although I want to return home, to the Shire, I am different now. When I left, I was merely a boy -- only 28! But since leaving, a lifetime has passed -- I've befriended kings and princes, become a Guard of the Citadel, fought in battles, watched as my friends and comrades died...."
'Saved my life,' Faramir mentally added to the list, although stayed silent.
"...and nearly died myself," Pippin concluded. "And yet, when I return, in the eyes of my fellow hobbits I will not yet be of age! I'm frightened I shall no longer belong."
Faramir nodded with understanding. "You have grown too big for the Shire."
"Aye!" Pippin agreed with enthusiasm. "Three whole inches! My clothes shan't even fit properly!"
Faramir laughed again at the hobbit's earnestness. "Surely there are tailors in the Shire," he teased. Then, turning more serious, he added, "But no doubt your people will welcome you as a hero."
Pippin grinned broadly. "I had not thought of that!" His grin slowly faded, though, as he reflected on events. "Yet, of my four companions, I am the least heroic. Frodo lost a finger whilst saving the world, and Merry helped fell the Witchking. Even Sam bore the ring of power for a time." Pippin sighed, depressed once again. "And I have done nothing but get in the way and bring troubles down upon those I love."
Faramir could not believe the hobbit's words -- could Pippin not understand the vastness of his actions? Quietly, with great reverence, Faramir said, "In my eyes, you are heroic indeed, for without you I should not be here."
It was the first time it had been spoken aloud between them, and, once released, the words hung heavy in the air.
Finally, Pippin looked up, his soulful eyes meeting Faramir's. "I am sorry," the hobbit said quietly.
"Sorry?" Faramir repeated, knowing not for what the hobbit apologized.
But Pippin reached up and took one of Faramir's large hands in his. "Truly sorry. But...I'm sure he loved you, despite...." Pippin couldn't quite bring himself to finish his sentence, squeezing Faramir's hand comfortingly instead.
Faramir swallowed hard. Boromir had repeatedly expressed the same sentiment, yet Faramir still could not quite believe. It was not his final actions that made Faramir doubt his father's love, for he knew that, at the end, Denethor had been consumed with despair, convinced by Sauron that all hope was lost. But never in his life had Denethor looked upon his younger son with anything but scorn and derision, as if Faramir's very presence brought him pain.
A small squeeze of the hand brought Faramir back to the present. "Do you miss him?" Pippin asked quietly, his green eyes shining with sympathy.
A wave of guilt washed over Faramir as he realized he did not -- all he felt was relief, knowing that he need never again try in vain to please his father. Instead, he need now only strive to please Eowyn, and, unlike Denethor, he knew that she would return his love.
Faramir knew not what to say, although Pippin still waited silently for an answer.
Finally, pulling his hand from the hobbit's, he said, "Would you think me cold if I said no?"
Pippin shook his head but turned away. Filled with regret, Faramir wondered if, perhaps, this fact had been more distressing than anything the hobbit had learnt on his travels. From what Faramir had seen of the hobbits and what he'd experienced of their caring nature, he imagined the discovery that not all fathers love their sons must have been a concept too perplexing to grasp.
Yet empathy ran deep in Pippin, and he did seem to understand.
"He made me sing for him." Pippin's voice was barely above a whisper as he met Faramir's eyes again. "He sent you off to die and then bade me sing." Tears welled up in Pippin's eyes and he turned away, ashamed. "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry I sang," he choked out.
Faramir was overcome -- this hobbit had shown more compassion for him in that instant than his father had shown his entire lifetime. Faramir knelt down, taking Pippin's chin in his hand and gently turning the small tear-stained face toward him. "You need never lower your eyes in shame," he whispered, his voice cracking as he struggled to get the words out. "You have proven yourself far more noble than any steward. And I would bid you sing again."
Pippin smiled warmly though his tears, and Faramir felt as if his own eyes might drown. Clearing his throat, the man stood, resolved. "But no more sad songs. For life is good, and full of hope."
Pippin nodded eagerly, quickly wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Yes, full of much hope. For I am going home again. And you are betrothed." He grinned up at Faramir. "This occasion definitely calls for music."
As if in answer, Pippin's stomach suddenly growled, and the two friends shared a startled look before dissolving into laughter.
"Perhaps we should seek out some food first," Faramir suggested. "We shan't have you singing on an empty stomach."
Pippin eagerly grabbed Faramir's hand and started leading him towards the kitchens. "And perhaps we can have something prepared and waiting for Merry and Lady Eowyn when they return."
As his thoughts turned once again to the two grievers outside on the hill, Faramir was surprised to discover that his worry for Eowyn had faded away. 'If she is with a hobbit such as this, then she is in good hands indeed.'
"For as they say," Pippin continued as they went, "'grief breeds hunger'."
Faramir laughed. "I believe they say 'everything breeds hunger' if 'they' are hobbits."
"Indeed," Pippin said as he began cheerfully singing of sausages and 'taters.
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